A/N: So here is chapter 19. Emma is...kinda dark in this one. Hurt and upset about stuff, just to forewarn you if you guys are seeing she's not acting like the Savior from season 1-4 we know and love.
Enjoy! Read and review!
Emma's Bug curled around the bend. Soon she'd see the Leaving Storybrooke sign. She glanced into the rearview mirror, checking both Henry and to see if anyone was following her. She acted quick in the hospital after knocking out Regina and waking him up. Already unhooking the leads stuck to his chest, his nasal cannula, swiftly removing his IV, and then his blood pressure cuff. She gathered him into her arms, which he seemed rather embarrassed by since his backless hospital gown showed off his Spider-Man Underoos.
The several patients and members of the hospital staff in the ER weren't really paying any attention to her son's underwear, anyway. They were waking up, too. Gasps and ohs and ahs and oh, my fucking Gods, swept throughout the ER waiting room and triage. Once Emma loaded Henry into the backs seat of her car, someone did plaster his face against the glass window, staring her down.
Leroy in his janitorial garb.
"Hey, are you going to go find your mom?!" he yelled.
She ignored him, shoving herself behind the wheel and ordering Henry to buckle his seatbelt.
"What's going?" he asked, sort of concerned but kind of smiling. She was driving really fast, and it was kind of fun. Kind of like The Caterpillar ride at Storybrooke's Summer Fair.
"I…uh…think I broke the curse."
"Really? Awesome! Are we going to go see Miss Blanchard now?"
"Not right now, kid."
"Then where are we going?"
"Uh…" She swallowed, turning around another bend. She smiled stiffly into the rearview mirror. The last time she attempted to take him out of Storybrooke, it hadn't gone well. He played on her conscience like the little punk he was. Told her she needed to break the curse, and that he wanted to stay in Storybrooke because he still wanted Regina in his life.
Emma did one of those things, but she couldn't oblige the second. Not anymore. Regina was going to poison her with a Sleeping Curse which probably would've killed her rather than maker her sleep forever. In her carelessness, Henry almost died. He did die. He had to be revived, and Emma never wanted to experience what happened ever again. If she had known giving up her son meant giving him up to that woman and that town, she would've held onto him and never let go.
"We are going to…" She saw the Leaving Storybrooke sign up ahead, her heart pounding. She checked the rearview mirror again. She then looked at Henry over her shoulder, taking in his little hospital gown, bare legs, and socks. "To get you some clothes. And then…we're going to Chuck E. Cheese. To celebrate the curse breaking."
As astute and clever Henry was, he was still six years old. His eyes widened and jaw dropped.
"I've always wanted to go there. My mom—my other mom—always said no because of too many germs. This is the best day of my life."
When Emma was his age, it would've been the best day of her life to go to Chuck E. Cheese, too. Pizza and play. Fun and friends. What could've been better? By the time she did get a chance to go, she was thirteen and the establishment in Minnesota was on the wrong side of town. She'd gone with a bunch of group-home kids for one of the little's birthday. Before she could decide whether she was too old for Chuck E. Cheese, Emma had to go to the bathroom. Some of the other girls her age and a bit older were already hiding out in there, a pilfered pitcher of beer on the filthy floor and a joint being passed among them.
They had sat cross-legged on that gross floor, drinking mediocre beer, and toking a weak-ass Mary Jane. But at the time, Emma thought they were hardcore. Also, the girls demanded she join them or they'd beat her up and cut off all her hair. So she sat her bony butt on that disgusting floor, sipped at the beer, and puffed her first joint while Breanna, Chelsea, and Stacy talked about the various tastes of semen they had encountered.
Breanna had said her former foster dad's was bitter, and that train of thought wasn't something Emma wanted to think about any longer. There was a Target thirty minutes away, and in the same plaza was the Chuck E. Cheese, she was pretty sure. She just needed to double check her phone.
Emma patted the pockets of her jacket and jeans and came up empty, cursing under her breath. She'd lost it. It could've been somewhere in the car, but she wasn't stopping to find it. She would when they got to Target, and if it wasn't there, she'd get a new one.
With a new number.
A new everything.
She couldn't go back to Boston. That much was clear, and her old apartment would be the first place Regina would look.
They needed a place to hide for a while, maybe even forever. Emma would have to start over with him.
Her fingers came to the swan on her keychain.
London.
Well, that would be a cute idea, for sure. Once upon a time, that'd been the dream. Her eyes rolled. Easier said than done starting a new life in a new country with a kid.
But it was tempting, the idea. Putting an entire country, even an ocean between Henry and Regina plus the fucking Dark One.
First things first, Emma still had to make it out of town. The Leaving Storybrooke sign was close, and she pressed on the gas. Maybe for the time being she can just hightail it to the other side of the country, like Seattle.
Again, she clocked her rearview mirror to check the well-being of Henry and let out a scream when he disappeared in whirling cloud of purple. She slammed on her breaks and swerved, almost hitting the Leaving Storybrooke sign. She overcorrected, and her car tipped and then rolled. Glass shards. Metal crunching and scraping against asphalt. Blinding, snapping pain. And then blackness.
A warm hand caressed her face and smoothed her hair. Emma's eyes flew open, narrowing when seeing Mary Margaret's face inches from her own. The woman let out a wet gasp, relieved joy igniting her face.
"My baby," she whispered. The hand not fiddling with her hair grabbed one of hers, squeezing.
Emma blinked, frowning, slowly sitting up. Testing the waters, and she felt…fine. She yanked her hand out of Mary Margaret's, so she can use both of them to cup her face, her chest and collarbone, her ribs and upper legs. No breaks, scrapes, bruises or cuts. She wore a bloodied hospital gown on a surgical gurney in what looked to be an OR. Her focus eventually landed on him. Standing tall, hands clasped together on the handle of his cane, chin titled outwards. His dark eyes stare at her, leveled and predatorial.
Stories Neal told her of his father came to mind. He told her about desperate mothers and fathers coming to his dad. Making deals to save their children from illnesses or injuries.
Emma remembered the crash. How her car rolled. The pain. Her body broken and, in some places, shattered. She should be dead.
"Is she to your liking, Your Highness?" Gold asked, his tone lightly smug.
Emma shook her head and grabbed at Mary Margaret's sleeve. "Tell me you didn't."
"Emma." The woman swallowed, her cheeks pinking and eyes tearing up. "You're going to be fine. That's all that matters—"
"You made a deal with him!"
Both Mary Margaret and Gold flinched.
"Emma—"
She swung her legs over the mattress, bunching the hospital gown behind her to preserve some dignity. "What does he get, Mary Margaret?"
The woman stepped back just enough to wipe the fresh set of tears trickling down her cheeks. Emma stormed up to Gold, who seemed extremely surprised by her boldness. He lifted a hand, threatening.
"That bottle you made me fight a fucking dragon for," she started, glaring, "didn't break the curse."
Gold's smirked. "If I told you the truth of what is was, you wouldn't have done it. What would've happened—"
"What's the cost?"
He gestured widely between himself and the other woman in the room, "That's between your mother and I—"
"Because whatever it is, I will pay it."
And she saw it. Not Gold, but the Dark One grin. Her taking over the deal was exactly what he wanted and planned for. Emma swallowed the bile hitting the back of her throat.
Mary Margaret came around her, standing next to Gold. "No."
The man pressed his smiling lips together, his gaze never leaving hers. "It'll hardly be anything to fret over, Miss Swan. You're just going to owe me a favor. Or..." He stepped closer to her. "You can tell me how you know about me and what I do. Depending on the answer depends on whether or not I write off the whole deal."
Her lips parted, tempted beyond anything to tell him the truth. About Neverland and the broken boy who'd become a horrible man. A dark, twisted part of Emma wanted Neal to pay for what he did to her and what better way than to lead his awful father to him.
That had to be why the Dark One was here. In the Land Without Magic. He came here to find his kid. Suffered twenty-eight years under Regina's thumb, baubles and knickknacks keeping him warm while he waited for Emma to show up and break the damned curse. All so he could go find him.
And suddenly, Emma had an idea of what the favor would be.
Emma cupped her mouth, keeping herself from saying something she might regret. She weighed the idea of saying never mind to the deal, and Mary Margaret could pay the price, but Emma knew he wouldn't accept it. The Dark One healed her because he wanted her alive and to take over the deal.
"I'm done talking," she muttered. "Just… go away. Please."
"Are you sure you want me to leave so soon, Miss Swan. You and I. We have a common enemy. Regina."
Emma felt Mary Margaret's hand on her shoulder tighten. She turned to face the woman, her voice cracking, "Henry. Do you know where he is? He…disappeared in a poof from the back of my car when I was trying to leave Storybrooke."
"Uh…" Mary Margaret blinked, hurt and surprise flickering over her face. And it wasn't because of Henry vanishing. "Regina must have him. With magic here now, she can do that. Make things and people disappear."
"I should also mention that Cora is here," Gold said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, God." Mary Margaret clutched her chest.
"Who's Cora?" asked Emma.
"Regina's mommy dearest," sneered Gold. "And if you thought Regina was rotten, you should see the tree she dropped from and if you want to face her, you'll need my assistance. We best act fast. Regina and Cora weren't exactly on the same page last I was with them. If that hasn't changed already, it's only a matter of time it will. No matter how wretched Cora is, Regina will always have a soft spot for her mother."
The hand that wasn't clutching the fabric of her gown, combed through her hair, her fingers catching at the crunchy tresses matted with blood. God, she needed to sit down. There was a chair flush against the wall inches from her, and if Emma were a different kind of woman, she'd plop down and hash out her next move. She needed to think. Weigh her options.
She gnawed on her lip and chose to stand.
Emma could tell Gold then and there she knew his son, and he could be found in exchange for help in getting Henry back and out of Storybrooke. He had connections and money. He could get her anywhere she wanted, and she was great at finding people. The only reason she hadn't already tracked Neal down was because she had never wanted to.
And also, because she feared she might well and truly murder him if she ever saw him again.
Or worse.
Forgive him.
There was no guarantee Gold would accept that deal. He wasn't an idiot. He'd put two and two together about she and Neal and conclude Henry was the inevitable number four. What if he felt like Henry belonged to him? What if he'd use Henry as a pawn to hurt Regina and put him in danger?
Henry was already in danger with Regina around and now this Cora woman. Emma would be a fool to go through another deal with Gold and risk her already delicate plans of getting the kid and leaving town.
"Slither away," she said coldly. "We're done here."
Gold simply smiled while turning on his heel. "For now.
The red jacket might be salvageable, but the rest of her clothes had been cut off her when she came through the hospital. With Gold gone, it was just she and Mary Margaret in an empty patient room where Emma slipped into a spare set of scrubs they found.
"I had to do it," said Mary Margaret, looking out the window. "After the curse broke, the people scattered. David and I, we couldn't find Dr. Whale or any of the PAs and nurses. We heard the OR staff abandoned him mid-surgery on his last patient. He managed to finish the procedure and took off, too. The sisters...fairies. All they could do was undress you. They don't have magic and suggested Gold. They didn't want to, but you were dying.
"The town. It's complete chaos out there. Emma, I'm sorry, but we really didn't have a choice, and I don't want to spend these first moments together being strained. I know your upset with me and your mind is on Henry. But right now, please, just indulge me."
Mary Margaret turned from the widow, her arms open and waiting.
"I…" What was she supposed do? Push all her feelings aside and embrace Snow White? The woman had no idea what Emma had been through these last twenty-eight years, but Mary Margaret forwent patience and hugged her anyway. Emma's arms came up, stiff, awkwardly patting the woman on the back.
"Is there anything you want to ask me...or your father. He'll be here soon. I mean, you must have questions."
Questions.
Questions!
Of fucking course she had questions and not all of them were for Snow White or Prince Charming. Emma wasn't able to control the mayhem around her but with any luck, she might be able to control herself. To do that meant prioritizing.
"I don't want to push," Mary Margaret added. "But I've waited for this moment for so long..."
Emma wanted to snap back, tell the woman she had, too. She imagined her entire life meeting her parents, and who they might be. For all the scenarios she concocted inside her head, Mom and Dad being fairytale characters never made the list.
"I need...time, Mary Margaret," she said, exasperated. Her thoughts drifted to Hook. He had to be Dr. Whale's last patient before she broke the curse.
Emma pulled away from her mother. She just…wasn't there yet. Too many emotions were bombarding her all at once, and not a single one of them was relief at finally finding her parents. "Look, I need to figure out how to get Henry away from Regina. She made a Sleeping Curse—"
Mary Margaret stepped back, flinching.
"—and Henry got ahold of it. When I got to him…" Her chin trembled. "He wasn't breathing. I don't think he even had a pulse. I woke him with a kiss…"
God, it sounded ludicrous saying it out loud. Waking people with kisses.
"True Love's kiss. We will get him, Emma. I promise you—"
The door opened, and David came rushing in, sword in hand, August limping behind him. Emma let out a strangled, "Hey," and bypassed her birth father, who had his arms out waiting for her, and gave August an embrace. Something solid and curved in his coat pocket pressed against her rib.
"I have your phone." As he went to retrieve it from his pocket, her hand slipped inside his other, unnoticed.
"I broke the curse," she muttered into his shoulder. "Regina has Henry."
"We'll figure this out, okay. Henry's going to be okay."
"You don't know that."
Behind her, Mary Margaret whispered to David, "That's August, Emma's friend."
"He's actually Pinocchio," he replied, equally as quiet, though Emma could still hear them. "And...I don't know how he's a man and not still a kid like all the others who came over with the curse."
Emma ignored them, lifting the hook between herself and August. "Is he still here at the hospital?"
The man chuckled, impressed. "Smooth move, Swan."
"I'm serious."
August nodded. "He's in the PACU."
"I have to talk to him."
She went to leave, and August grabbed her arm. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"He just got out of surgery. He can't hurt me."
"It's not you I'm worried about. Emma, you could've…" His eyes darted to her parents. "You know what I mean."
"Well, as it happens, I happen to want him alive for the moment. He's in league with Regina and might know a way for me to get Henry."
His eye narrowed. "You think he'll help you—"
"I think I'll kick him in the nuts until he does."
"Emma." His grip tightened.
"August," she growled. "Back off." She flicked her gaze to her Mary Margaret and David. "Don't follow me. I have to deal with this alone." She pinned her stare back to her friend. "And don't you dare tell them anything. Understand? If they hear anything, it's going to be from me and when I'm ready."
Emma had half a mind to swipe a pillow from one of the other PACU beds and smother Hook with it. After having snagged a discarded badge from the nurse's station, she strolled into the PACU and found the man unconscious and alone. Vulnerable, bandaged, shirtless. His bare chest red and irritate from being hastily shaved for his surgery. He looked incredibly unintimidating without his hook and leathers.
She looked down at her own attire.
Nothing against medical staff, but she didn't feel incredibly menacing herself in the baggy scrubs and no-slip socks.
At Regina's, Emma hadn't taken the time to study Hook. Horror and disgust and crippling fear had her frozen. Those emotions quickly morphed into rage and drowning anxiety at registering Henry's motionless body in the man's arms. Her priorities shifted.
True, she had indulged Hook's inquiring about where Bae was with a truthful 'I don't know' as he bled—possibly to death—on Regina's kitchen floor. Mostly, she answered his question because she wanted him to know the boy who fell in love with her at the age of forever-fourteen was long gone. The toxic mixture of Hook's betrayal and the harsh evils of this new world broke down that sweet boy and reconstructed him into someone unrecognizable.
Neal Cassidy.
Baelfire would've never let Emma take the fall for him, and she missed him. She sometimes, despite herself, missed Neal, too. There'd been bits and pieces of fun and flirtatiousness which settled in him. She had loved that and loved him.
And she had loved Hook.
Her temporary infatuation with him had been brief and immature, yet passionate and reckless. She'd been sixteen and lived a suck-ass life. Adults, specifically men she'd been fostered by, had only shown cruelty or worse. Hook, at first, seemed gentlemanly. He bathed, clothed, and fed her. He gave her a bed and sanctuary on his ship. She never had a dad or a grown man who seemed to take genuine interest in her welfare, so her loved-starved, teenage heart fell for him hard.
She even killed for him. Dropped two lost boys to keep him alive and safe.
Her fingers quivered at the memory. The pressing echo of pulling back her bow's string and aiming the arrow at Tomas. And then at Benjamin.
Emma approached the man's bedside, glowering down at his face, checking for any differences and found none. He looked the same as he did eleven years ago. He hadn't aged a day.
A memory she locked away years ago burst to forefront of her mind. The lush dark hair, the long, thick lashes, and those pretty lips…nestled between her legs. His scruff scratching her inner thighs.
"All right, don't kill him," she muttered to herself, her hands clenching into fists.
A voice yelled at him to wake the hell up. He was being jostled and poked and smacked on the face. Killian Jones smeared through the fog, his eyes attempting to flutter open. Deep, unnatural fatigue weighed his body down and dug its claws into his consciousness. He wanted more sleep. More rest. He wanted to sink back into whatever dark gray cloud the bothersome noise and irritating prodding kept him from.
"Hook," said the voice again.
His throat was sore and scratchy, like it'd been rubbed raw. His tongue dry. He attempted to curl up on his side but couldn't seem to move. A pain in his shoulder and the heaviness of his limbs kept him from that comfort. He was only able to slump his head to the side as the pleasant air streaming into his nose stopped.
"Water," he groaned before lulling back into a deep sleep.
Emma stared at his beeping monitor, dropping the nasal cannula off to the side. His heartrate and oxygen lowered. She left him no choice but to wake up and breathe deeply on his own.
There was a sink a few feet away and disposable paper cups. Emma shuffled over, turning on the faucet and filling one of them. She glanced back over at Hook, his chest moving shallow and non-rhythmically, his features troubled. His free hand, sluggishly and blindly, crept over to his heavily bandaged shoulder, patting the gauze.
Killian's fingertips clumsily skimmed the material over his shoulder. A fabric he couldn't quite place. The pain was coming from beneath it. It was keeping him from sleeping, and he needed a drink.
"Water," he said again. This time a plea.
A cold splash on his face had his eyes snapping open. An ungentle hand patted his wet cheek, and there was Emma Swan standing over him, angry and feral and bloodied. Crusted streaks of brownish rust stemmed from the roots of her hair. Her green eyes were bloodshot, and her clothing was shapeless and unattractive.
He wiped at the wet from his eyes. "You shot me," he sputtered.
"You're a fucking asshole, so don't act so surprised." She folded her arms and canted her hips. "But on the bright side, it looks like Pan did live up to his end of the deal because here you are."
"Let me explain—"
"No!"
"Yes!" he shouted! "I know how it seemed for you when we parted ways—"
"You don't get to talk, and I don't want to hear anything about Neverland again. It's bad enough you're here—"
"I crossed realms to find you and Bae, Swan—"
"Bullshit! You're here to get your revenge."
Hook turned his head away from her, lips angrily pressed together and jaw twitching. "You have me all figured out, Swan."
Emma regarded him with a frown. "You're coming off something called anesthesia, Hook. Your brain and vision and body aren't working right. You're dehydrated and probably in a lot of pain. Not to mention you'll be nauseous as hell soon. You don't know where you are, and you don't have your favorite attachment to protect yourself. The Dark One is here, and you're vulnerable. I am in the unfortunate position of owing him a favor. I think if I offer up the man who broke his family and swore vengeance on him, I might be able to weasel my way out of paying up."
The deep, hot pain coming from his shoulder was becoming unbearable. He closed his eyes, biting his tongue, and fighting back a pained moan.
"I don't have to let him know you're here," she continued. "I'll get you water, medicine for the pain, food, and clothes. Even some eyeliner and rum if you beg real prettily," she taunted, throwing his own words from Neverland back at him. "I just want Henry and to get the hell out of here. You help me get him, I won't turn you over to the Dark One. How does that sound?"
To be Continued...
